Greif Days
by IsomorphicTARDIS
Summary: One-shot! AU. "Because, in a world where grief is spent forever and in its full extent annually, an eidetic memory is rarely ever placed with genius." Mostly Reid-Centric.


**Alright. First Criminal Minds fic, so hurrah. Kind of really AU, and very Reid-centric, because who wouldn't like freaking Matthew Gray Gubler?**

**Anyway. Hope you enjoy. Spoilers up to ... uh. Well, season 8, I guess. I kind of went all over the place with this. Sorry. R&R!**

* * *

There are days, in every person's life, when they grieve and remember depressing times, losses of loved ones or friends, or simply loss of emotion, whether it is happiness, excitement, or hope. And, somewhere, there is a world full of people that deal with pain much differently. They deal, not voluntarily, but because it's how their bodies have learned to cope with pain – taking the expression, "One step at a time," to literal extremities. No one could explain why the human species evolved to include this factor in their biology, but there have been various experiments to try and repress the oddity. None have worked so far.

And, in this world where pain is felt as a memorial only on a certain day, finding certain careers can have a certain effect with certain people. Mostly, people affected very much by this phenomenon go into jobs like accounting, jobs that have less of a risk for tragedy. People that are mostly unaffected are usually encouraged to go into Law Enforcement, as they are less likely to have moments of depression or grief while going after criminals.

Agents signing up for the BAU are especially strong-minded, as they are required to set themselves as their enemies, trying to seek out their stressor, their trigger, their grief day when their body reacts to stimuli that aren't there anymore, as the enemy relives every emotion and moment of whatever pushed them off the edge. The BAU only accepts the best.

That doesn't mean they don't have their own annual grief days.

* * *

SSA Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner has his own grief days, just like everybody else.

When he first started in the BAU, he was already familiar with criminals from his previous job as a prosecutor. Many cases that affected him are always coming up on him, the ones he doesn't remember only giving him a vague feeling of dread or sympathy. No one asks when why when he walks in on May 16 and holds a somber expression on his face the entire day, and no one wonders why he ends the day with an odd bemused look.

Everybody knows not to come close when November 25 rolls around and Hotchner walks inside dazedly, locking himself in his office for the entirety of the day. They don't need to check the calendar to know it's the anniversary of Haley's death.

Everybody pretends to not hear the choking sobs behind the door.

The violent bashings on the walls is a little harder to ignore.

They do it anyway.

* * *

SSA Jason Gideon has his own grief days, just like everybody else.

Before he had resigned, he had thought that he could deal, that he had his days just like everybody else, and he could deal, just like everybody else.

And then Frank came along, and everything crumbled beneath Gideon's feet. He considers himself lucky that he managed to leave his gun behind along with his badge, instead of leaving his decaying body and his letter to the kid he was leaving behind.

In the end, however, he knew he would miss the team immensely. Hotch, with his stern concern as he stared worriedly at the name calling on his phone, giving him space and yet not treating him like a petulant child, or like he was just a ticking time bomb. J.J., who was always the comforting mother figure who would offer comfort and sympathy, ignoring her need for his wisdom at times. Elle, who was always the stable and strong-minded one, keeping him grounded so he wasn't swept away in his grief days. Reid, who always knew how to help others during grief days, offering quotes and chess games, and slowly building your confidence as he asks you for answers that he knows only you would know. And, finally, Morgan, who doubted his mental status, and yet, who was the first person to help him out on his annual grief day of the Boston Incident.

Days in his cabin could do nothing to change the fact that he had pushed away his only family as of now.

He moved on.

* * *

SSA Derek Morgan has his own grief days, just like everybody else.

When he was younger, he was always torn apart, put back together, torn apart to shreds again, and it undoubtedly followed into his adulthood. Eventually, over the years, he grew numb to these certain grief days, a tactic he learned in the BAU to be disassociation. The first day he came in on one of these days, they had had a particularly gruesome case of vivisection with the unsub making his victims watch as he cut them open and … you get the point. In the middle of working the case, Garcia had remarked, "God, this guy is sick." Morgan narrowed his eyes.

"Why?" he blurted, and felt a distant spike of confusion as all eyes turned to him. It was kind of like looking through a window dusty and grimy and it was raining outside but you couldn't hear anything, just a high-pitched ringing noise that was only a little annoying. "It happens to a lot of people," he elaborated. "Why is this guy especially 'sick'?"

The team continued to stare at him until Hotch said curtly, "Morgan, can I meet you outside?" Morgan had nodded, and Hotch had explained to him in the hallway that he knew he was having a grief day, and to just take the day off, that he'll understand in the morning.

The next morning, he was late to work.

He threw up five times that day.

* * *

SSA Elle Greenaway has her own grief days, just like everybody else.

Unlike the rest of the team, she was able to hide them with only a trickle of suspicion entering her teammates' minds. Well. She was able.

Now, she has her own grief day, the emotion more anger than grief as she flashes back to the serial rapist thanking her and her pulling her own gun on him, claiming it was self-defense to Hotch later, seeing him clearly not believe her, sighing as she resigned and looked to a life ahead of her.

She only wakes up screaming half of the time, now.

* * *

Media Liaison Jennifer Jareau has her own grief days, just like everybody else.

She may walk into the bullpen, bedhead evident just as is her jittery nature. She will call Will and Henry at least seven times, and will spend the other times glancing nervously back at the phone.

She may walk in, completely calm, and then later in the day will suddenly drop everything and run to the nearest shooting range. The only way to calm her down is for Reid to come in and comfort her. Her fear of dogs plus Reid's kidnapping left her with a particularly harsh grief day, but Reid is always there to help.

She may bolt inside, babbling uncontrollably, and it will take the entire team to calm her down enough to get her to the phone, where she can call Will and hear Henry's voice and make sure they aren't captives, haven't been taken, and they're okay. She knows where they are.

She never loses track of where anybody she cares about is, now.

Never.

* * *

SSA David Rossi has his own grief days, just like everybody else.

He will be one of the most important people when it comes to dealing with grief days, and is therefore the most calm of the team members during his grief days.

Some days, he will walk in with a simple, somber expression on his face, snapping at anybody who says anything obvious and not paying any attention to good profiling on others' parts.

Some days, he will walk in with a blank look on his face, and seem more out of it than he ever was before. The entire day will be spent without eye contact, compassion, or any emotion at all. The team knows it's not healthy.

None of them are really healthy, anymore.

* * *

SSA Emily Prentiss has her own grief days, just like everybody else.

She hasn't told anyone what may have happened on her grief days, but they can assume by her hyper-vigilance and harsh words and desperate pleas.

On the anniversary of her death, she is taken from Interpol and put into a room with only J.J. and Hotch, and, when she stumbles at the phantom pain in her abdomen, they reassure her that it's going to be okay, and they work a case with her to keep her conscious. She can handle her past and her grief days.

The team is a big help.

And so is she.

* * *

SSA Dr. Spencer Reid has his own grief days, unlike everybody else.

He is ultimately the most embarrassed when he is required to recite his dates and has to take two minutes to list the entire thing.

January 8th, the day he found out that his mother talked to people that weren't there. His father had yelled, his mother had cowered in fear at voices that were in her head, and Spencer stood stock still, frozen with no control. Helpless.

February 14th, the day his father had stopped speaking to him directly, unable to even look him in the eyes. Spencer's mother convinced the little boy that his father was simply upset. Spencer thought it was because of him.

February 17th, the day Spencer's father had finally had enough and had packed his belongings, shooting daggers at his mother's attempts to soothe him and shooting down any of Spencer's attempts to make him stay. After he left, Spencer concluded the only possible reasoning for it – he couldn't deal with his mother's schizophrenia, nor with the possibility that Spencer would be just as crazy. He knew, no matter what he told his mother, that he really was weak.

March 29th, the day that he had graduated high school, believing himself to be free from the bullies and punishments of the past, no matter how many grief days he might have over them. That is, until he found himself being laughed at and strapped naked to a football field post, coming home and hoping to find comfort there. His mother had had an episode. She hadn't noticed he was late. He told her he graduated and cried himself to sleep.

April 5th, the day that he was finally given a place inside the BAU. He was 24, and had just met Aaron Hotchner. Currently, another agent was escorting him to some other agent's office, and kept shooting dirty glances his way. Spencer tried to keep his mind off of the hostile agents by looking around – only to find many other agents glaring the same glare at him. He cowered, and saw the agent's sit a little straighter, their dominance shown and respected. Spencer didn't talk for the rest of the day, only nodding and answering questions with a simple "Yes" or "No".

April 6th, the day that he had met Gideon for the first time inside the agency. Unfortunately, the famous profiler had caught sight of the dirty looks, and, once Spencer and Gideon were inside of his office, forced Spencer to tell him about them. Spencer did, and shrunk a little at the growing fury on Gideon's face, worried it was directed at him. Logic didn't matter right now. Gideon had stormed out of the office (to keep him from blowing up at Spencer, the 24-year-old suspected), and the stares had never met his gaze again. For this he was grateful. But he still flinched whenever an agent met his eyes. On this day, Spencer was pushed aside and he forever became Reid.

May 18th, that day that he had dared to try to not remember, yet always came back to him. His brain went on overdrive, thinking and calculating, trying to come up with the best way to avoid the coming day. His only distraction was comforting J.J., who had been attacked by dogs, and oh yeah, wasn't it his idea to split up, not hers? He thought and thought and thought, thinking, hoping, maybe he could get out of it this time. None of his methods ever worked.

May 19th, the day that he spends nowadays shivering in a ball in the corner of the roundtable room, not seeing anything but Charles and Raphael and Tobias or hearing anything but Bible verses and the popping of a gun in Russian Roulette or tasting anything except the bile and blood and saliva or not smelling anything but burning fish guts and age-old grave dirt and musty wooden floor boards and the sweet scent of Dilaudid. He can't feel the team sitting around him, talking soothingly until he can finally come out of the daze he's put himself in, distance himself from the phantom pain.

June 3rd, the day that he had had his first full-blast migraine. He had gone for an MRI, only for his doctor to tell him that there was nothing wrong and that he should consider a psychosomatic cause. A niggling voice in his head calling to him, saying over and over and over, "Eleven percent, eleven percent, eleven percent, eleven percent, eleven percent," and Reid feels like he's going to snap.

June 27th, the day that he finally quit taking Dilaudid. And, despite his best earlier efforts to stop gradually, the jump from Dilaudid to no Dilaudid was still a large one. He's pretty sure nothing could be worse than that empty, sweaty, clammy, trapped feeling. He relives it every 27th, though.

July 4th, the day that he had yet to get over, simply because of the celebrations. The first time after Hankel that he had heard fireworks, he had sprinted inside the nearest building and hid under the nearest bed. The team couldn't find him for three hours, and he still wouldn't come out with their coaxing. Fireworks were just never a good idea.

July 15th, the day that he had contracted the Anthrax virus. On good days on the 15th, it'll just be Reid and Morgan, talking about dumb things that don't matter and Reid doesn't get that sick. On other days, a hospital visit to the ICU is a common reassurance. His body reacts well to the antidote, despite the lack of Anthrax, and he is cleared for work the next morning.

August 2nd, the day he was reminded of his decision at the age of 10 to not be tested for Asperger's, not to be labeled. He spends most of the day playing piano pieces on an air piano that usually sit upon tabletops or his lap. He plays 'Coda' at least five times that day.

August 28th, the day he finally confronted his father about Jenkins, and the day he found out about his father's real reason for leaving. Anger, resentment, disappointment, unsettling emotions rolling around in his stomach for the entire day until sweet resignation comes to take their place.

September 19th, the last day that Reid had saw Maeve alive. God, even thinking about this date made his heart pound with grief. She was the only one that could ever make Reid laugh on one of his grief days – and he was the only one to make her laugh in the dire situation she was in. And yet, the woman he loved only ended up being the woman to become the subject of one of his most terrible grief days. The 19th always echoes through to the 20th, 21st, and 22nd. It's one of the worst.

October 16th, the day that one Emily Prentiss supposedly died, the burning of Reid's arms as he carries her coffin nowhere near the burn in his heart, and that not even comparable to the sting in his eyes as tears flow down his cheeks, only to be caught by sunglasses to hide his tears and his growing migraine.

October 30th, the day before Halloween that he stumbled over to J.J.'s for the first time, unable to keep himself from sinking back into Dilaudid, hoping that she could be stronger than he was. He sobbed and drank and threw up and didn't dare to fall asleep should a nightmare appear.

November 7th, one of his first days in the University, when he thought he was home free. Except, of course, for the psychology professor, who did not allow students that were not his from attending his lectures. Despite this, Reid kept sneaking inside, making sure not to be seen or heard any time during the lecture. Unfortunately, he always had quite a few questions, and, being awkwardly unsocial, didn't have any friends there to ask for him. Sometimes, he thinks the only way he could have snuck inside was because he was incredibly small and lithe for a 13 year old. And then the professor had found him hurriedly packing his bag in the corner after a very compelling lecture. The yelling fest and threats to get Reid expelled left the kid with only one option – no more psychology lectures anymore. Not because of the information, but because that professor scared him more than any high school bullies ever had.

And, finally, December 25th, Christmas Day. Thankfully, this grief day only began somewhere between 10:00 at night and ended at 2:00 in the morning. Reid had been only nine. His mother had forgotten to take her anti-psychotic medication the night before, in all of Reid's excitement. After a final assurance that Santa was, in fact, real, Diane Reid fell asleep, only to be woken up by her son's excited voice once again. Except, she couldn't hear him, could discern his words from his spaces and breathing because there were other voices, whispering, slithering, sneaking their way into her head, telling her things, and oh, she forgot, didn't she? She forgot her … her … she sunk back in a black daze, gradually coming out of it sometime later only to find Reid sitting at the foot of her bed, tears streaking down his face and hand covering up a welt on his face. She didn't talk to her son for days after that, the first words out of her mouth being only, "Oh, God, Spencer, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so, sorry … " Eventually, Spencer forgave her, with a little bribery of nights staying up and reading. The only problem was that he knew that she could never forgive herself.

Most officers can only blink at the sheer numbers of the amount of dates, and offer baffled sympathy. Reid's sure that they always think they're never going to want join the BAU. He agrees.

Because, in a world where grief is spent forever and in its full extent annually, an eidetic memory is rarely placed with genius.

* * *

**So. How was it? I didn't proof-read a lot, cause I haven't been updating in a while. Sorry 'bout that, by the way.**

**Anyway. Tell me what you thought/think, I'd love to hear what's goin' on in those heads of yours. R&R!**

**~IsomorphicTARDIS**


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